


The One Where Certain People Find Out

by Rinielle



Series: L.E.S A.M.I.S [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Friends AU, M/M, fluff and nonsense - my two favourite things, warnings for language and mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinielle/pseuds/Rinielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius, Cosette and Éponine make an accidental discovery, Courfeyrac hates keeping secrets, Enjolras and Grantaire should probably start being more discreet and everyone knows that everyone knows something.</p><p>Part of the Les Amis/F.r.i.e.n.d.s verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Certain People Find Out

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt sent to me on tumblr, which is also on the kink meme. 
> 
> "Enjolras and Grantaire show up together, R. with a smug smile and their fearless wearing something around his neck even though the night is warm, blushing and refusing to answer personal questions. Marius, naturally, sees this as the perfect opportunity of getting revenge for the "our little lives don´t count at all" speech, but Grantaire tells him to not bother because Enjolras somehow has the ability of making sex be about the revolution, probably in some useful way."
> 
> I'm sorry it's not exactly what the prompter asked for, it suited this verse just well enough that I really wanted to do it here, but hopefully it's close enough that 10000 words makes up for anything that's missing =).

**{Marius}**

It isn’t often that Marius gets to say ‘I told you so’. It’s something he has long since come to terms with since Courfeyrac sucked him into his life of crime and social revolution and more coffee than is probably healthy; the last being the price of meeting four or five times a week in a coffee shop to discuss the first two. He soon learned that his long and strongly held opinions were very easily dismantled and he could count on one hand the number of times over the last three years he had been able to turn around and claim he’d been right all along.

So when he leaves Cosette and Éponine examining the living room of his soon-to-be new apartment – and quite frankly thank God for having his own space and not having to wear ear protection every time Courfeyrac returns from another successful night out – and they start shrieking incoherently, he is first of all alarmed, and five seconds later – having run out to ensure they are both alright – smug.

Cosette and Éponine had been marvelling over the fact that the view from his window looked almost directly into their own apartment, and had been trying to catch the attention of Grantaire – who was currently crashing on their couch due to his kitchen catching fire – but had quickly given up when his attention was most decidedly focussed elsewhere.

No eyebrows had initially been raised when Enjolras had come into view. It wasn’t precisely unusual for the other Amis to drop by unannounced and simply walk into each other’s apartments, regardless of whether anyone is in or not. It hasn’t even, in the last few weeks, been that unusual to find Enjolras and Grantaire in each other’s company. True, the fact that they tend to not be at each other’s throats, bickering loudly, at such moments has been a bit of an adjustment, but enough of it goes on in meetings and at random intervals during group gatherings that nobody has thought much of it. What is unusual however, by the time the screaming has brought Marius into the room, and the finger pointing has turned his gaze towards their apartment window, is the way that Grantaire has their unspoken leader backed firmly against the glass, hands trailing suggestively low, and the way Enjolras’ head is tilted backwards to allow him better access to his throat for a whole new reason.

Marius’ first reaction is an immense sense of satisfaction, and a very sudden desire to bolt over to Cosette and Éponine’s apartment, burst in through the door and ask whether Enjolras didn’t have rather more important things he should be doing, besides worrying over a little thing like this. That desire is soon quashed however, because suddenly hands are wondering under clothes, jeans are being undone and t-shirts are riding up and all three of them turn abruptly from the window with shouts of ‘My eyes!!!’

No amount of wanting to say ‘I told you so’ could induce Marius into walking knowingly in on two of his friends having sex; he’s learned his lesson quite spectacularly from walking in on Courfeyrac – by accident of course – more times than he would care to admit. Cosette takes a risk for them all and turns back to pull the curtains closed, while Éponine moans loudly about having to clean the glass in the window, and probably needing to burn the couch.

 It takes several minutes for them all to calm down and come to terms with what they just witnessed.

“Of course it’s obvious when you think about it,” says Cosette quietly. They’re all sat together on the floor, facing the closed curtains in a morbidly curious sort of way. Marius blinks at her, because it wasn’t obvious to him at all, but next to her Éponine is nodding in agreement.

“All that arguing and tension all the time,” she says, “The fact that ‘Aire stuck around, even when Enjolras was being an ass to him. Hell the fact that Enjolras never kicked him out even when he was being a very particular brand of drunken pain in the ass.”

“We should have known there was something behind it all,” agrees Cosette, and Marius feels more confused than ever. He’s unsure how exactly anyone was supposed to interpret the ways Grantaire and Enjolras treated each other as anything but barely disguised contempt, but Éponine is nodding again; with an expression to suggest she’d missed the most obvious thing in the world and she was not happy about it.

“At least we should have picked up on the way it’s all stopped recently, they’ve been getting on better for weeks,” she replies, “And they never used to hang out alone before… Oh God,” she buries her head in her hands suddenly, “That time I came home and found them coming out of my room. They weren’t borrowing my laptop to check the weather were they?” Cosette reaches out to stroke her hair and murmur ‘no sweetie’ apologetically.

“How long’s it been going on do you think?” Marius asks. The girls are quiet for a few moments, clearly going back over the last few weeks in their minds, trying to pin point when the strange behaviour had begun. In the end it is Cosette who gasps loudly and flaps her hands in realisation as she exclaims, “Paris!” and Éponine raises an eyebrow. She had, unfortunately, been unable to fly out to Marius wedding in Paris – a fact that Marius can’t say he regrets now, as much as he had been sad about it at the time.

“They were acting really jumpy the morning after the… uh I mean the morning we all went home,” and she blushes slightly, as does Marius, at the memory. The morning after the wedding, the morning after he said her name at the altar instead of his now ex wife, the morning after he’d told her it meant nothing when it had meant everything. Cosette clears her throat before continuing, “Enjolras had this weird smile on his face all morning,” she says “And all the weird behaviour started when we got back to New York, do you remember?” and a dawning look of comprehension arrives on Éponine’s face.

“The kissing thing!” she says suddenly, and Marius remembers with a jolt, “For like three days Grantaire wouldn’t stop kissing everyone in the room when he left, and he said it was just a European thing he picked up in France. He always started with Enjolras!”

“All those times they went down to do ‘laundry’ together, and when Enjolras offered to drive Grantaire to do groceries when you and I had flu,” says Cosette looking bewildered, “And this definitely explains that huge charge to our phone bill when Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Combeferre went to DC,”

“Oh my God, and there wasn’t an art show on in Maryland that Grantaire just had to go to at the same time as Enjolras visiting his parents in Washington,” Marius adds with another sudden burst of clarity, “Enjolras _never_ visits his parents, and Grantaire always says looking at other people’s art makes him want to put a knife through all his canvases, they must have gone away together,”

Cosette leans back on her hands, shaking her head and staring at the ceiling, “You know, I can’t decide who’s dumber, them for thinking they’ve been subtle, or us for not getting it until it was literally right in front of us,”

Both Marius and Éponine shake their heads too, because okay, Marius thinks it’s fair enough that he hadn’t thought of it before Paris, when all they ever did was fight, but now with all the evidence piling up from the last few weeks, really, he thinks, how they missed this is a mystery. Their silent contemplation of their own obliviousness is interrupted by someone trying and failing to open the door, which Marius had placed on the catch; it slams open and then shut again and someone yells ‘ouch’ and also for some reason ‘damn it not again!’. Marius jumps up from where he’s sat and crosses the room to open the door properly, and allow Courfeyrac into the apartment; he’s rubbing at his forehead, where a large red mark is already making itself known.

“Hey,” he says distractedly, as the girls get up off the floor to greet him; Éponine stifling her giggles very badly. Cosette is more sympathetic.

“You okay sweetie?” she coos, walking over, and he lets her pry his hand away from his head and fuss over him while he takes in the apartment.

“Hey _nice_ ,” he says approvingly, looking around, “So you put an offer in yet?” Marius nods and Courfeyrac grins. He pecks Cosette on the forehead in thanks and moves away to explore the rest of the apartment.

“You know,” he shouts from inside the kitchen, “All those times we used to spy on the old guy here, I never noticed how big this place was,” and Marius glances reflexively over his shoulder, just in case the man selling the apartment has appeared in the last few seconds. He’s very carefully avoided mentioning that his friends live directly across from here, just in case the old man has ever noticed several curious faces peering over at him in the past. Somehow he doesn’t think the information would endear him to the guy, and he really, really wants this apartment. Courfeyrac strolls back into the living area as if he’s already quite at home there, and heads over to the window.

“So can you see back into your place?” he asks Cosette and Éponine, making as if to draw the curtains back, and all three practically leap forwards yelling ‘NO!’ so loudly he takes a step backwards with his hands in the air in surrender.

“Um,” says Éponine, “That is…” but it’s clear she has nothing, and Courfeyrac is staring at them all as if they merged together to form one three headed being.

“It’s just that,” Cosette casts around for an excuse next, “Well Grantaire said something about having a date over,” Éponine nods enthusiastically, it’s good, close enough to the truth but not too close; Marius jumps in next.

“Yeah!” he says, “And well, we saw the guy arrive, and so you know, we thought it would be rude to watch them, so we closed the curtains so we wouldn’t be tempted to look over,” Courfeyrac has at least stopped staring at them as if they’re some kind of mythical creature, but he doesn’t look particularly happy with the explanation either.

“Grantaire has a date?” he asks, looking unconvinced.

“It’s not beyond the realms of possibility,” snaps Éponine, always the first to Grantaire’s defence, “He’s a great guy!”

“No, no,” says Courfeyrac, holding his hands up in surrender again, “That’s not… I just meant… And you saw this guy arrive?” they all nod together, and okay perhaps they’re acting a little suspicious, but it sounds a perfectly reasonable explanation, and there’s no real reason for Courfeyrac to look so annoyed. It’s strange in fact that he hasn’t gone straight back to trying to catch a glimpse of this ‘date’, he’s not one to let gossip within their group die away without trying to find out everything he can first.

“And…” he pauses as if thinking everything over very carefully, “You uh, didn’t know the person?” he asks carefully, and that seems like a strange thing to ask to Marius, but they all shake their heads as one, and he looks thoroughly distressed now. He glances back at the curtains, but seems to think better of opening them, and that restraint alone coupled with his expression is what makes Marius ask.

“Why?” and Courfeyrac jumps as if burned, turning towards him as he asks “Do you know something about Grantaire we should know?”

The ‘no!’ is a little too quick to come out, too high pitched when it does, and Éponine moves forwards in that almost cat like way she does when she wants to intimidate; Courfeyrac backs away from her.

“You do don’t you?” she says quietly, and though he shakes his head it’s suddenly very clear that he does, in fact, know something. The question is whether that something is the same something that they all know. “Courfeyrac!” says Éponine warningly, “What do you know?”

“What do you know?” he counters, looking accusingly at all of them, “What did the… _person_ look like?”

“Oh we can’t tell you,” says Cosette sweetly, “But if you already knew…”

“I might know something,” he says carefully, keeping a wary eye on Éponine, who has for the moment stopped stalking towards him. “But I can’t say, because I don’t know that what you know is what I know, and I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone what I know!”

All four of them exchange glances, and silence reigns for several seconds, when Cosette makes a sudden movement and draws her cellphone from her bag. “Well,” she says, “I think I’ll just phone Enjolras and see if he…”

“You know!” cries Courfeyrac, cutting her off and pointing at them all, and Cosette looks smug as both Éponine and Marius make the same exclamation back.

“But how do you know?” he asks.

“Like we said… we saw them through the window,”

“Oh my God!”

“How long have you known?”

“ _Too long_!”

“How did you find out?”

“I… I figured it out,” he replies, and bristles when they all look at him sceptically, “The hotel Grantaire said he stayed at for the art show phoned to say he left some converse shoes there, which was weird, because he only has one pair and I saw him wearing them earlier in the day. Then…”

“Enjolras came over to ours to ask if he’d left them there!” says Éponine, slamming a palm against her forehead.

“And I was chatting with Grantaire in the living room, at the time, and… I figured it out,”

“That’s why they dragged you out of the apartment!” cries Cosette.

“That’s why all three of you disappeared into Courf’s room that time,” adds Marius, remembering them all half falling through the door and disappearing without so much as a hello. He’d even had to close the front door after them. Courfeyrac nods, and the room descends into silence again for several seconds.

“So they know that you know,” says Éponine, and Courfeyrac nods again, “But obviously, they don’t know that we know,” she adds.

“So…” Marius says after several seconds more silence, “What do we do now?”

“Does anyone else know?”

Courfeyrac sighs and nods again, “Jehan knows, he overheard them on the phone,”

“And they know that Jehan knows,”

“No,” replies Courfeyrac, “They only know that I know. But it doesn’t matter, enough of us know now, so we can just tell them,”

“Or…” says Marius slowly, and they all turn to look at him, he blushes slightly, feeling just a little bit reckless.

“Or?” asks Éponine.

“Well, how many times has Grantaire teased us about our relationships?” he replies, and they all look thoughtful, “And how many times has Enjolras yelled at us about how our sex lives aren’t important, or that they’re just a distraction,” Cosette seems to be running out of fingers to silently count on.

“What are you suggesting?” asks Courfeyrac, looking wary.

“I… I’m just thinking that maybe it might be time for a taste of their own medicine,” he replies, “Use the fact that we know to mess with them,” and Éponine looks positively gleeful.

“You mean like… every time they say they’re going to go ‘do laundry’, we give them a load of our stuff to do?” Marius nods enthusiastically, Cosette is grinning too; only Courfeyrac seems unsure.

“Or,” he says, “We could just tell them you guys know, and then maybe they’ll feel like they can tell everyone and then _I_ don’t have to keep this a secret anymore! Doesn’t that sound fun?” the three of them turn in unison to stare at him for several seconds, then say all at once “No,” and causing him to sigh loudly and sink to the floor.

“Oh!” Cosette yelps, drawing their attention back, “I just had the best idea to mess with them. So, okay, they don’t know that we know right?” Cosette and Marius nod, “So what if one of us pretends to come on to the other, so that they’ll break and _admit_ they’re doing it with each other!” Marius claps his hands together, but Éponine shakes her head.

“No way, can’t do it,” they look at her enquiringly, and she sighs, “Well, I don’t know for sure about Enjolras, but I’m pretty sure he’s not into girls, like at all. I mean the guy walked in on me…” she trails off for a moment, blushing slightly, “Well I had to borrow someone’s shower this one time, and… anyway it clearly did nothing for him, and…” she coughs lightly, as Marius and Cosette stare at her, “Besides, I think we can all agree that Grantaire is the weak link here, if either of them is going to break it’d be him, and I know for a _fact_ that he’s not into girls, because he told me, so that’s me and Cosette both out. Courfeyrac can’t hit on either of them because they already know he knows, and Marius…” both girls turn to look at Marius who goes bright red and starts stuttering, “Well exactly,” finishes Éponine, waving a hand at him.

“What about Jehan?” asks Cosette, “He and Grantaire are quite close, maybe he’d do it?”

“No way!” states Courfeyrac loudly from his position on the floor, “There is no way in hell that Jehan is going to be pulled into your evil schemes! I know that in Jehan, I have at least one friend with morals! He won’t do it!”

* * *

**{Courfeyrac}**

“So you’ll do it?” squeaks Cosette, gripping Jehan’s arm. He laughs lightly and nods his head. The two of them are practically jumping up and down on the spot.

“Sounds fun,” he says, and both Marius and Éponine send identical smirks in Courfeyrac’s direction.

“You can’t tell them we know okay?” they say.

He sinks further down into his chair, wishing very hard for better friends.

* * *

**{Éponine}**

Their first opportunity to mess with Grantaire and Enjolras arrives the next day at the Musain; the little coffee shop below their apartment block. They’re sat in their usual corner, tucked away at the back, when the two arrive together. Grantaire is looking particularly pleased with himself, and Enjolras – who they know to have something against any clothing that comes up to his neck – is wearing a deep red neck scarf, and all five that know silently wonder to themselves how nobody seems to have figured the two of them out without serious prompting. Grantaire excuses himself to get a drink, whilst Enjolras chooses an empty seat between Combeferre and Joly, who points to the scarf and remarks what a good idea it is, as there seems to be a rise in throat infections around the city just recently. Éponine, on hearing this, gives him her kindest smile and asks if he’s feeling okay, and comments that he looks a little flushed.

She might not have noticed it if she weren’t in on everything, and that frustrates her more than she can say – she does so hate to not be in the loop – but now she sees the very slightest hint of a blush in his pale cheeks, and the slightest of hesitations before he coolly remarks that he feels a little under the weather, but it’s nothing serious and Joly stop edging away I’m not contagious! He ends up swapping seats with Marius, for Joly’s peace of mind, which places him next to the only other empty seat around the table. Éponine watches carefully to see Grantaire’s eyebrow raise very slightly when he returns to the table with two coffee’s and notices the seating arrangements.

“ _You’re_ not ill are you Grantaire?” Cosette chirps from besides Éponine, who glances up at him properly with faux concern. He gives her a slightly quizzical look.

“I told you, I am not _ill_ ,” says Enjolras in frustrated tones, fingers coming up slightly to toy with the scarf. Comprehension dawns on Grantaire’s face, and he laughs lightly, setting the drinks down before seating himself. Enjolras pulls his towards himself with more force than is strictly necessary; some of the coffee sloshes out of the cup onto the wood of the table.

“One day Enjolras,” and there was another thing, how had they not noticed that Grantaire had stopped giving Enjolras stupid nicknames, “One day you will be suffering a heart failure or something of the kind, and you will insist to the last that you’re perfectly fine,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snaps in response, but, Éponine notices, there is far less venom in it than there used to be. She’s not sure whether she’s reading into it simply because she knows about them now, but it almost seems… fond.

They lose themselves in their usual chatter, moving swiftly from one topic of political concern to another, someone – usually Grantaire – takes them all off on a tangent until they’re half crying with laughter and Enjolras has to bring everyone down again and back to business. It’s after they’ve all calmed down for the third time, and Combeferre is bringing the subject back around to the latest proposed education reforms that Grantaire yawns loudly and announces he’s going to get another drink, if anyone else would like one. They place their orders with him, and he gets up to walk to the counter, beside her Jehan hops out of his chair, gives her a short wink and calls after him that he’ll help. As they make their way over she watches Enjolras, who seems to her eyes to be concentrating very hard on looking at his empty mug.

The topic resumes, Enjolras is caught up by something Éponine wasn’t listening to and Bossuet is catching the brunt of his opinions, so she turns her attention instead towards the counter, where – still in line – Jehan is smiling sweetly at a slightly wary Grantaire. They’re not standing particularly far apart, but that in itself isn’t really weird, as a whole the group is fairly tactile with each other, but when Jehan laughs – a high almost musical sound – and leans in further running a hand down Grantaire’s arm, there’s no mistaking it for purely friendly interaction. Indeed Bahorel, who had been zoning out, jerks upright and hisses “Is Jehan coming onto Grantaire?” in disbelief.

Enjolras’ head turns so fast Éponine is surprised he doesn’t seriously injure himself, however the action goes largely unnoticed because almost every other head had swivelled to watch Grantaire and Jehan at the same time. They have however now reached the front of the queue, and Grantaire is placing the groups order with the waitress, and as soon as he’s done he makes a quick escape back to the table; Jehan following behind.

“She said she’ll bring them over,” he says in a rush, seating himself back beside Enjolras and determinedly not looking at Jehan, who – seemingly oblivious to the curious looks he’s getting from the rest of the table – skips back to his own seat. Éponine nudges him lightly when he’s sat down and they grin at each other.

* * *

**{Grantaire}**

“I’m telling you,” he says, speaking in hushed tones in case any of their friends should come near enough to hear them, “He was all giggly and flirty, and he asked if I’d taken up boxing again recently!”

They were, supposedly, getting sugar sachets and milk for the table.

“Grantaire, it’s Jehan,” hisses Enjolras, glancing over his shoulder at the table of their friends, “There’s no way!”

Grantaire glares at him, “What, no way on Earth anyone else could be attracted to me?”

“That’s not what I…” Enjolras huffs, grabbing a large handful of sachets, and turning to walk back. Grantaire only just remembers to grab the large jug of milk the waitress had set down for him.

“I’m just saying I’ve known Jehan a long time,” Enjolras says lowly as they walk, “He doesn’t see anyone in the group that way. He loves everyone yes, but in a totally, sexless sort of way.”

“It didn’t exactly feel sexless when he was caressing my arm!”

“You must have just misunderstood!”

“I’m not _stupid_ Enjolras,” he snaps, “And _I’m_ not relationship dense either. I’ve been approached at least enough that I _know_ when I’m being hit on!” He’s fairly sure Enjolras picks up on the dig, because he pulls ahead and doesn’t so much as acknowledge him for the rest of the meeting.

* * *

**{Enjolras}**

The second time it happens is at Éponine and Cosette’s apartment. He and Grantaire had had something of a blow out the night before, their biggest since getting together in Paris, and he had barely slept the night before, knowing that Grantaire was only a wall away and probably still completely furious with him. He had barely gotten any work done that evening, and whilst he tried to be angry with Grantaire for this proof that relationships were a distraction, he found himself more often than not returning to being angry at himself for the things he had said.

He enters the apartment, thankful for the group’s general lack of care for personal space, as it means he doesn’t have to offer a reason for being there. He freezes for a moment when he finds Jehan already there; sitting on the kitchen counter chattering happily with Cosette, who is baking, and Marius who is attempting to help and making rather a nuisance of himself.

Grantaire is sat in the living room, flicking through the television channels, but he glances up when Enjolras closes the door behind him and calls out a general greeting. Éponine pops her head out of her room and waves silently, her cell-phone up to her ear, before disappearing back inside. He catches Grantaire’s eye, trying to communicate that he wants to talk to him alone, and he’s not sure whether the message gets there or not because Grantaire simply rolls his eyes and goes back to channel hopping. Marius is banished from the kitchen sharply when he knocks over a bag of flour; he goes sheepishly to sit at the dining table instead.

“What’re your plans for today Enjy?” Cosette asks, rearranging her face into a kind smile at him over the bowl of cake mix that she’s attacking extremely viciously with a spoon. There are of course reasons why she’s the only one who gets away with calling him ‘Enjy’. “Me and ‘Ponine are going to see a movie with Jehan, want to come with?”

“Uh, actually I was just popping in to see if you had any spare quarters,” he says lamely, “I uh, I only have notes and I need to do some laundry,” if he raises his voice just a little bit in order that Grantaire will catch the word, then nobody seems to notice. That gets there, and Grantaire turns slightly in his seat again, somewhat reluctantly if Enjolras is reading him as well as he thinks he can.

“I’ve got some spare if you want?” he says, and after Enjolras thanks him adds, “Actually I have some stuff needs doing myself,”

Marius leaps out of his seat so fast anyone might think it had burned him. “One sec,” he calls, speeding out of the apartment and across the hallway, they stare after him for several seconds in shock, and then he’s hurrying back, a large bag of laundry in his arms. At the same time Éponine practically falls out of her own room, phone still pressed to her ear and her own bag of laundry under her free arm. The two bags get dumped unceremoniously in front of Enjolras with identical cries of “You don’t mind do you? It would really help me out?” and Éponine and Marius really need to stop spending so much time in each other’s company because it’s bordering on creepy now.

Éponine hurries back into her room saying “No, no sorry I wasn’t talking to you,” whilst Marius digs around in his pocket and extracts several quarters.

“That should cover it right?” he asks with a grin, placing the coins in Enjolras’ hand, apparently oblivious to the strangeness of what just occurred, “Sorry to ask, I’ve got a meeting in,” he looks at his watch and pales slightly, “Shit, now actually, with the guy with the apartment, sorry I’ve really got to go!” and with that he flies out of the apartment again, slamming the door behind him and leaving Enjolras to wonder what in the hell just happened to him.

“Well,” he jumps slightly when Grantaire’s voice comes from beside him and not from the couch. “Looks like we’re in for fun filled hours of laundry, all night,”

“Yeah, great,” he says, staring at the two very full bags at his feet. At the very least, he thinks, they can still talk in the laundry room; with all the machines going the chances of being overheard are pretty low.

“Enjy!” Cosette trills, “You couldn’t be a dear and reach the piping bags on the top shelf, could you? I must have used the last of that box yesterday.”

Why she has her piping bags stored away on the uppermost shelf is unknown to Enjolras, but he doesn’t ask; it’s always best not to with Cosette. Her reasoning usually makes no sense at all to anyone but herself, and has been known – on occasion – to offer rather disturbing insights into her early life. As he goes to kneel on the counter, Jehan hops down and announces that he has a few errands to run before the movie starts, and that he’ll see the girls at the theatre later. It’s when he turns to get back down again after handing Cosette her piping bags that he sees him giving Grantaire a hug goodbye. It’s not wholly unusual for Jehan, but Enjolras is fairly certain he’s never seen him run his hands over any of their friends asses before, and when he whispers something in his ear Grantaire sends a helpless pleading look in Enjolras’ direction, but before either can react, Jehan has swung his coat on and departed, almost as fast as Marius.

“Did…” Grantaire starts, but when Cosette looks up questioningly Enjolras pushes away from the counter and goes to grab the two bags of laundry on the floor saying “Right better get started!” and he gives Grantaire a pointed look that has the man scurrying off towards the cupboard in the corner of the flat that he’s been using as a wardrobe. He emerges with an admittedly smaller bag of clothes than the ones left by Éponine and Marius.

Cosette waves them both out.

“Tell me you saw that?” Grantaire asks, once they’re significantly far away.

“I saw that,” he says simply, “I’m still working on believing that I saw that,”

They walk for several seconds in silence, and Enjolras contemplates his next question several times, unsure if he wants to know the answer before asking “What did he say to you?” Grantaire flinches and blushes slightly and Enjolras can’t help but feel slightly irritated at Jehan.

“I uh, wouldn’t want to repeat it exactly,” Grantaire coughs lightly, “Suffice to say our Jehan has a vivid imagination. Anyway,” he says quickly, “Now do you believe that he likes me?”

Enjolras is about to nod, but he can’t help but think over everything one last time. It’s not that he finds it beyond the realms of possibility that someone else would make a move on Grantaire, it’s that he knows Jehan. He’s known Jehan almost as long as he’s known Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and this just isn’t how he acts; it’s too forward, too out in the open, too sudden. He can read it on Jehan’s face when he’s attracted to someone, has seen it a thousand times and has dealt with the fallout each time too. He knows Jehan and so… and so… his eyes widen. He knows Jehan, and so he knows when Jehan is trying to mess with him.

“He knows!” he says instead of nodding, “He knows about us,” and Grantaire stops dead in his tracks, staring back at him in shock for several seconds before clapping a hand across his forehead.

“Ugh, of course!” he replies, and Enjolras is glad to see the news doesn’t seem to have come as a blow to his self-esteem at least “God! How did he find out though?” They stand in the middle of the corridor, three sacks of laundry between them, for several seconds in silence before both turning at the same moment – and okay maybe they’re spending too much time together as well – and saying:

“Courfeyrac!”

* * *

**{Courfeyrac}**

He sneezes, and is about to inform the room that someone must be talking about him, when he realises that there’s nobody there to tell. He says it anyway, because there’s nobody to call him crazy for talking to himself either.

Not for long however, because less than a minute later the apartment door bangs open, then shut, and a particularly annoyed looking Enjolras and Grantaire are standing in his kitchen. Enjolras is carrying one large bag of clothes, Grantaire a much smaller one; a third bag flies directly into Marius’ room, only narrowly missing the top of Courfeyrac’s head.

“Did you tell Jehan about us?” Enjolras demands before he’s even fully processed that they are actually there. It therefore takes several seconds for him to get to what is being asked of him, and Enjolras has unfortunately taken his silence as an affirmative.

“I can’t believe you!” he rages, throwing his arms in the air, “You swore you wouldn’t…”

“Woah!” Courfeyrac cuts him off, waving his hands, “Woah wait a second, no, not my fault I did not tell him!”

“Then how does he know?” asks Grantaire.

Courfeyrac stares at the two of them for several moments, and realises they are utterly clueless as to how Jehan or anyone else might have discovered their secret. He snorts lightly, because he apparently has no self-preservation instincts at all, “You two really think you’ve been sly don’t you?” he says, and they just blink at him. He sighs.

“Jehan heard you on the phone line when he was over at Cosette and Éponine’s,” he tells them, and they both glance worriedly at each other. For the second time in his life Courfeyrac doesn’t bother to ask what it is Jehan overheard, he is quite certain he doesn’t want to know.

“And you knew he knew?”

Courfeyrac sighs again, and he’s never ever going to figure out anyone’s secrets ever again, he’s swearing off secrets and gossip and all of it for life; it’s far more trouble than it’s worth.

“Look, it’s not like I wanted to keep it from you, but they made me swear not to tell!”

Two voices yell “They?”

He claps a hand to his mouth. Shit. God damn it, Éponine is going to murder him. “Uh, he, Jehan, I meant he,” but it’s far too late to backtrack, and Enjolras has that look on his face that promises a slow painful death if he continues to lie to him.

“Who else knows Courf?” asks Grantaire softly, the good cop to Enjolras’ murderous demon spawn.

“Cosette…” he says quietly, and Enjolras’ finger taps on his arm, “Okay, and Éponine and Marius, but that’s it I swear and… again I didn’t tell them okay! They saw you through the window at Marius’ new place. And you know what, maybe if you two could learn to keep it in your pants for five minutes, or at least in your own private space, you wouldn’t have this problem!” they’re not listening anymore, they’re doing that thing where they communicate without words and it’s annoying as fuck.

“Right!” shouts Courfeyrac, jumping out of his seat, “That’s it, I’m done, I’m marching right over there and telling them that you’ve found out, we’re getting this over with!” a moment later he’s back in his chair again, Enjolras has pushed him.

“They don’t know that we know they know!” he says and Courfeyrac groans, because he already knows roughly where this is going, and it’s not going anywhere good.

“And it’s going to stay that way!” adds Grantaire, and a moment later they’re gone. Courfeyrac sighs loudly and tells the room he really, really hates his friends. Then he quickly tells the room that he takes it back, because terrible things happen to people in movies who say shit like that out loud.

* * *

**{Jehan}**

To say he’s shocked when Grantaire sits down beside him on the couch, extremely close, hand resting on his lower thigh, would be an understatement. He maybe squeaks very slightly and glances over his shoulder. Almost the entire group aside from Joly and Combeferre who both have late shifts at the hospital, are present, but they’re all currently stood in the kitchen, talking and laughing and seemingly oblivious to Jehan and Grantaire pressed together on the couch.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” is whispered in his ear, and he knows his eyes go slightly wide.

“Oh?” he asks, slightly shakily, if he’s honest he had walked out of the apartment two days ago and blushed harder than he’d ever blushed before; hardly daring to believe the words had come out of his mouth. He blushes again now remembering them.

“Mm hmm,” and the hand on his thigh moves minutely higher, as Grantaire whispers, “Constantly,”

“R-Really?”

“Listen,” Grantaire suddenly glances over at the group himself, “My landlord called this morning,” he says, “My apartments all fixed up, so if you wanted to come back later…” he lets the sentence trail off and then a moment later he’s gone leaving an extremely shell shocked Jehan in his wake.

As soon as the opportunity presents itself Jehan is out of his seat and grabbing Marius by the elbow.

“Get Éponine and Cosette and meet me in Cosette’s room, now!” he squeaks, red to the roots of his hair, and he hurries out of the living area and through Cosette’s bedroom door. By the time the three of them arrive – which is several minutes later – he is almost hyperventilating on Cosette’s bed. Cosette herself is the first to rush over, sit down on one side of him and put an arm around his shoulders; drawing him into a tight hug and kissing his hair. Éponine ducks down to kneel in front of him, taking his hands in hers whilst Marius hovers on his other side looking unsure.

“Jehan honey,” Éponine is saying, “Can you take some deep breaths for me,” as she finishes she starts taking long breaths herself, until Jehan starts to copy her. In and out, in and out, and eventually he levels out and calms down significantly.

“What happened sweetie?” Cosette practically croons into his hair, and he blushes again.

“It… 'Aire…” is all he manages to get out at first, but he takes another long deep breath and tries again, when Marius asks “What about Grantaire?”

“He um, he asked my back to his apartment,” he squeaks, and they all exchange shocked glances.

“ _What_?” asks Éponine, her grip on his hands tightening slightly, “Like… as a… date?” Jehan can’t quite bring himself to answer with words so he simply nods several times.

“Man what did you say to him the other day?” Éponine sounds vaguely impressed and Cosette swats at her.

“It doesn’t matter what Jehan said!” she snaps, and the fire in her eyes reminds Éponine of why it is that all the boys in the group are simultaneously enamoured and terrified of her room-mate. Cosette stands suddenly, apparently unable to sit still, “How could he?” she hisses, sending a glare towards the door, “How could he do this to Enjolras?” she adds, as if any of them need an explanation for her anger. Okay so they like messing with him, they’re still as fiercely protective of Enjolras as of any of their other friends; as they would have been of Grantaire if the roles had been reversed. Cosette wipes a tear angrily from her eyes, “He has to know this is the first time Enjy’s been in any kind of relationship, he has to!” she says, “I can’t believe him!”

Marius nods, looking shell-shocked, “I’d never have thought R would do something like this,” and they all nod in agreement, silence reigning.

“Unless…” Éponine says slowly, and then she jumps to her feet, “I’ll be right back,”

* * *

**{Courfeyrac}**

“One day,” he says with a sigh, “One day, you will all realise that actually I give great advice, but by then I won’t be inclined to give it anymore, and you’ll be all ‘oh how we wish we’d listened to Courfeyrac when we had the chance’ and I will just sit off to the side and laugh at all your misfortunes,”

Éponine raises an eyebrow at him and he sighs again.

“Yeah,” he says, “They know you know,”

* * *

**{Grantaire}**

He’s going to find out who came up with skinny jeans and if they’re still alive he’s going to send them a very long thank you letter; maybe some flowers. Just as soon as he gets done watching his boyfriend move about in them. Which, to be fair could be just long enough that he’ll have forgotten he promised to send a thank you letter to whomever it was that came up with the truly excellent concept of jeans that fit snugly around every curve.

He’s not one hundred percent sure that Enjolras knows he has long since stopped listening to Bahorel detailing his latest street fighting escapades, and has instead taken to watching him, but there’s something about the way he keeps shifting his weight and by extension moving his hips that has him at about eighty maybe eighty five percent sure. Long fingers that had been gesturing passionately at Musichetta, who was nodding along enthusiastically, suddenly fall to his sides as she starts to talk instead, they brush slowly down the material of his jeans; and there’s the other fifteen percent he thinks with a grin.

He hasn’t seen Jehan in around twenty minutes, and he had left him blushing so violently he could have been used to guide ships safely to shore. Which, hopefully, means he’s so freaked out he’ll call the whole thing off and just admit he knows; which in turn frees up half Grantaire’s evening plans.

It’s a few minutes later, when he’s about halfway through coming up with some elaborate plan to get Enjolras out onto the balcony without anyone noticing; there’s a particularly dark little niche just out of sight of the main window he wouldn’t really dare to try out but it’s fun to imagine. That’s when he feels hands on his shoulder, and a voice says “Eight? At your place?” lowly into his ear, and he’s nodding enthusiastically before he even realises that Enjolras is still within his line of sight.

“Good then,” says Jehan with a smile, and he lets one of his hands slide across Grantaire’s shoulder blades until he has walked to far to reach, and he goes to join Bossuet, Feuilly and Éponine at the kitchen table where they’re setting up for a game of poker. Damn him, thinks Grantaire, and damn the rest of them too, he adds to himself when he spots Marius and Cosette watching him non-to subtly. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. Six thirty. That gives him an hour and a half to prepare, because seriously damn them all if they think they’re going to make him crack first. Jehan isn’t going to know what hits him when he arrives.

He sends Enjolras a quick text to let him know the details, and then stands up yawning loudly and proclaiming that he has a morning art class the next day and he really should start to work on the project he’s supposed to be giving a progress report on. He endures five minutes of groaning and lecturing on actually starting his work earlier, as well as general wishes for luck and a warning from Bossuet that if he and Joly get another call in the middle of the night because he accidentally drank the water meant for paintbrushes then he’s on his own. He returns the wink that Jehan sends him with as much enthusiasm as he can muster when he can feel Enjolras’ eyes on him; and despite most of this being Enjolras’ plan to begin with, he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying him in some way.

Enjolras arrives at his newly burnt-down-kitchen-free apartment about twenty minutes before Jehan is due.

“They think I’m on a conference call,” he says when the door opens.

“Hello to you too,” laughs Grantaire, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before moving aside to allow him in. Enjolras looks uncomfortable, he thinks. His hand is doing that nervous tapping motion again.

“The place looks good,” he says after a moment of silence, gazing around the apartment, and there’s something a little bit sheepish in his voice. Which, fair enough, as it was sort of his fault that Grantaire’s kitchen caught fire in the first place. Well, half his fault anyway. Maybe sixty percent, because while it takes two to tango – so to speak – it certainly wasn’t _Grantaire’s_ fault that he chose to arrive for dinner in _that_ red shirt and the most ridiculous black pants Grantaire has ever seen. Can he really be blamed for forgetting to turn the stove off before deciding to forgo dinner altogether?

“Yeah they did a good job,” says Grantaire casually.

“Here for the show?” he asks, when Enjolras says nothing in response.

He shakes his head, “I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to do this,” he says and Grantaire blinks in surprise, because this is Enjolras, and Enjolras doesn’t back down from challenges. He and Bahorel once partook in a two and half hour game of twister; that really wasn’t even the game itself anymore because nobody was spinning the board or calling out colours and limbs. They were simply locked in a battle of wills, both in incredibly awkward positions already, determined not to be the first to fall. In the end it had turned into an elaborate combination game of twister meets human buckaroo, with the amis throwing various items onto them until a feather boa hit Bahorel in the face, caused him to sneeze, and sent him crashing to the ground. Enjolras had made a point of staying firmly in position until Bahorel had moved off the mat and stood upright, formally admitting defeat. Enjolras hadn’t even wanted to play the ‘childish’ game to begin with.

The point being that Enjolras does not like to lose.

So Grantaire feels justified in his surprised exclamation of “You what?”

Enjolras sighs lightly and sits himself in what had quickly become ‘his armchair’ since Paris. Grantaire had been immensely grateful to find that it had escaped any fire damage, even if his couch had been less lucky; it was nice to have something in his space that he could associate entirely with Enjolras.

“I know that I can sometimes be very forceful, in my ideas and that I don’t always consider the effects my plans have on others,” and those were definitely words that had once come from Grantaire’s mouth, “As you were leaving earlier,” Enjolras continues, and he sounds like he was probably rehearsing this little speech all the way over here; it’s cute really, Grantaire thinks with a fond smile.

“It occurred to me that you may not feel entirely comfortable going ahead with this, and while I still feel that our friends definitely do not deserve the satisfaction of seeing us lose this little game, I am willing to take the high ground, call a stop to this whole thing, and admit the relationship upfront to those who already know, if you did not wish to proceed.”

Grantaire stares at him for several seconds, trying to process what he has just heard. Enjolras shifts uncomfortably in his armchair, clearly awaiting a response, and very clearly annoyed at the idea of admitting defeat to Marius, Cosette, Éponine and Jehan. It’s this more than anything that really brings home to Grantaire the magnitude of what he just said to him. It only takes him a few seconds to cross the room and practically throw himself onto the seat, straddling Enjolras’ lap, burying his hands in golden curls and kissing him hard.

He had expected, initially, that once Enjolras made up for the previous lack of experience he had had at the beginning of all this, that it wouldn’t be long before his naturally commanding personality began to seep into their physical relationship.

In some ways he hadn’t been entirely wrong. Enjolras can certainly be demanding when he wants something specific, and Grantaire soon learned that he doesn’t take being made to wait with any degree of grace or patience; but for the most part he still yields to Grantaire’s lead.

For some time Grantaire wondered whether he was holding himself back for his sake, to make him feel useful or something nonsensical like that; he refused to be held responsible for the strange notions of self-doubt that ran, almost hourly, through his brain against his will. When he had asked Enjolras whether was holding back, Enjolras had looked at him in confusion, and in what had to be the most adorable display Grantaire had ever witnessed – and would never have believed him capable of – he had quickly asked whether he was doing something wrong. Many reassurances and clarifications later Enjolras had answered Grantaire’s real question of why, if he was so bent on being in control of every other aspect of his life, would he be so willing to give any of that up to someone like Grantaire.

 _“I never felt I_ could _let go before. But I trust you!”_

He had said it simply, without ceremony, and Grantaire had never asked again.

Now that the doubts are gone, there’s something never-endingly thrilling about the way he goes pliant under Grantaire’s hands, opens up to his mouth, moans lowly but unashamedly in his throat when teeth catch his lower lip; a quiet demand for him to do it again.

“Is that a yes to stopping?” pants Enjolras between kisses, and Grantaire smirks and dips his head slightly to press his lips just below Enjolras’ ear.

“Who said anything about stopping?” he hisses, “This is a shut the fuck up. Now let’s go make them cry,” and he nips gently at Enjolras’ ear lobe, enjoys the sound it earns him and the way he rolls his hips upwards, and then pushes himself away from the chair.

A mirror hangs above the faux Victorian style fireplace and he sets about straightening himself up, smiling just slightly triumphantly at the reflection of Enjolras doing his best not to look completely put out behind him. A glance at the clock tells him he has maybe five minutes at most before Jehan arrives, and when he tells this to Enjolras he expects him to nod and leave; but he remains precisely where he is.

“Not that I don’t have a great deal of confidence in my ability to seduce pretty revolutionaries,” he says, only _mostly_ lying, “But even I might find it difficult with another one sat in the same room,”

Enjolras, who always takes far less time to pull himself together than Grantaire would like, simply shrugs and gets out of his chair, stretching slowly and very deliberately.

“I’ll go and wait in the kitchen then,” he replies casually, heading for the door.

“Voyeur!” Grantaire calls after him, playfully, and he just has time to add, “Try not to burn the place down,” and receive a sarcastic ‘ha ha’ in response as Enjolras closes the kitchen door, before there is a knock on his front door. His nerves return full force now that Enjolras has left him alone, but he steels himself for what is, undoubtedly, going to be the most awkward meeting he’s ever had with any of his friends. He reaches the door just in time to hear someone hiss something unintelligible, but when he pulls the door open there is no sign of anyone but Jehan, smiling up at him in his usual angelic way. It takes a great deal of will power not to be charmed, Jehan is the group’s darling and Grantaire, like everyone else, loves the little poet to bits, but right now – he reminds himself – they are locked in a battle of wills and he is determined not to lose; especially with Enjolras not even twenty feet away from them. So, summoning all his, not inconsiderable, acting talents he returns the smile and pulls the door open wider to let Jehan enter.

“The place looks good,” he says softly, and that it’s exactly what Enjolras had said on walking in makes Grantaire stop short for a moment, pausing in closing the door behind them. Jehan catches the hesitation and asks “Nervous?” with apparent concern. Grantaire curses himself silently, and closes the door before turning back with a wide grin he is sure isn’t quite reaching his eyes. It’s alright, he supposes, they both know this is more a game of chicken than of acting.

“Not at all,” he replies, as casually as he can manage, and God does he wish he’d thought to buy some wine on the way back, because what he’d had at Éponine and Cosette’s has long since worn off and he could really do with taking the edge off right now. At the very least holding a glass would give him something to do with his hands, which hang uselessly at his side as he makes his way further into his own living area. He glances at the kitchen door and takes a breath, remembering how Enjolras had told him he didn’t have to do this. He could walk straight over to that door, right now, and it would all be over. _‘Let’s make them cry’_ he’d said, and whilst it’s suddenly a lot harder to feel confident without Enjolras right there infront of him, he simply can’t bring himself to give up so easily.

“You?” he asks instead, looking away from the kitchen door.

Jehan has the most ridiculous eyelashes, he thinks, as he turns back to face Grantaire, stares up through them and throws him a ‘shy’ smile and says “Maybe a little,” and while it’s really not that surprising that he’s rarely out of a relationship of some description, it does very little for Grantaire. He tries to imagine Enjolras batting his eyelashes at him; all it does is make it very difficult not to laugh.

“No need. Can I take your coat monsieur?” he asks, pulling himself together and bowing low to Jehan; looking up at him with a smile. To his credit, Jehan only looks surprised for a second, and he nods turning around to let Grantaire help him out of his hideously orange faux fur coat. He makes more of a deal of hanging the coat up than is necessary; maybe if he can just keep wasting time, Jehan will crack purely under the awkward silence.

It is not to be, Jehan is rocking back and forth on his heels in the middle of the living area when he turns back; not looking comfortable per se, but not exactly on edge either. It’s a small apartment, so it only takes three or four strides to be standing uncomfortably close and neither is looking at the other’s face, eyes focussed over shoulders and on potted plants or bookshelves.

“So…” says Jehan, moving first and resting a hand on Grantaire’s waist, pulling him even closer.

“So,” Grantaire mimics, pushing down every instinct that is shouting _wrong, wrong, wrong_ , in his head and reaching out to cup Jehan’s cheek. Jehan closes his eyes – though more as if he’s bracing himself than anticipating – and he really does have the most ridiculous eyelashes imaginable, especially this close up. He’s also really really not going anywhere and with his other hand resting on Grantaire’s chest and Grantaire’s now on his waist there’s really nowhere else for this to go…

Kissing Jehan is entirely strange, and surely it’s just because they both know there’s absolutely no attraction on either side, because if Jehan’s former boyfriends and girlfriends are to be believed – and Grantaire has no reason to doubt any of their honesty, except possibly Montparnasse – if so, then he probably doesn’t habitually kiss as though he’s a cardboard cut-out and not a real person. Still, the tactic of standing stock still seems to be working for him, he’s not backing down, and Grantaire is trying to come up with something, anything to do next when he is saved the bother altogether.

“Enough!” the kitchen door slams open and they both leap apart, all at once shocked and immensely relieved. “That’s enough!”

Jehan is grinning from ear to ear, and Grantaire – who stares at Enjolras as though he’s gone mad – thinks he hears a ‘whoop’ from the corridor.

“Enjolras, what are you doing here?” Jehan asks dramatically, barely containing his laughter.

For a moment Enjolras looks at a loss, and he seems somewhat surprised himself, as if he hadn’t really planned on storming out of the kitchen, and Grantaire raises a hand to his forehead in despair, because ill-thought out rushing in is just Enjolras all over, and damn it can he not just sit still for ten minutes and trust Grantaire to handle something; just for once?

He watches Enjolras draw himself upright, “I couldn’t just stand in there and let this continue anymore,” he replies with as much dignity as he can muster; which is a surprising amount, actually, though it probably shouldn’t be so surprising given who he is.

“Oh?” says Jehan, still grinning, “And why is that exactly?”

“Because I’m in love with ‘Aire!” comes rushing out of his mouth almost immediately.

Silence follows this outburst. A moment later there’s a collective cry of ‘ _What?_ ’ from the corridor and three bodies practically tumble into the apartment through the front door. Enjolras glares over at where Éponine, Marius and Cosette are all picking themselves off the floor. Courfeyrac is still stood in the doorway looking shell-shocked. Grantaire sees none of this, his attention is still entirely on Enjolras himself. Neither of them has said the words yet, though Grantaire has been thinking them for longer than he can really remember. He isn’t quite stupid enough to believe that Enjolras feels _nothing_ for him, he knows Enjolras far too well for that, but love? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wake up every day simply feeling grateful that he hadn’t left him yet. People like Enjolras don’t stay with people like him forever. They certainly don’t _love_ people like him. So he waits for Enjolras to backtrack, to deny the words, or to blame them on another rush-in-answer-questions-later whim of his; except that he doesn’t.

“I…” he starts, finally looking at Grantaire, and there’s such tenderness in his gaze that Grantaire almost chokes, “I love you!” he says, and Jehan is practically bouncing in Grantaire’s peripheral vision.

“Oh my gosh!” he says, “I thought you were just screwing around, I didn’t know you were in love,” and sometimes for a poet he has a very un-poetic way of putting things.

“Oh it’s so romantic!” squeals Cosette, gripping at Marius’ arm; he smiles at her and nods.

In the door way Éponine snorts lightly, “You just gonna stand there gaping like a goldfish then?” she calls to Grantaire and he snaps his head around to look at her. She tuts and leans her shoulder against the doorframe, “He said he loves you, you fucking idiot,” she says, “Get over there!”

Grantaire doesn’t need telling twice.

* * *

**Some months later: {Marius}**

To say he’s happy that everyone is finally in the loop regarding Enjolras and Grantaire is an understatement. Mostly because he’s happy for his friends, but also just a little bit because he now has actual opportunities to tease them.

Admittedly opportunities at meetings are scarce. Enjolras is as hard and focussed as ever, and Grantaire is as loud and argumentative but no more disruptive than usual.

However opportunities like walking into Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment to find that – instead of finishing off the editing for Les Amis’ monthly newsletter – the two have fallen asleep, curled up together on the couch, cannot be ignored. Thank God he has a habit of carrying his camera with him everywhere.

It appears on facebook twenty minutes later.

It appears within a series of photographs Enjolras uses to make a point on the perception of LGBT relationships and marriage equality at a rally three _days_ later.

Also the newsletter came out perfectly on time and without a single mistake.

Marius gives up.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to talk momentarily on my Éponine and Marius headcanon for this verse. Éponine and Marius have had it out that she had feelings for him (ala - you're over me? When were you... under me?) a long time ago, and by now she's really there and over him and they start spending time together and find that they actually make way better friends than they would have made lovers, and since Marius lives just across the hall (until this installment at least) and since he's in love with Éponine's room-mate but refuses to admit it anymore because... he's an idiot... and because Éponine also has the worst luck with romance, he ends up spending a lot of time over there and they eat ice cream and watch stupid cheesy films together and basically they end up like each other's shadows. And obviously they're both equally in tune with Cosette, which is why the three of them are freakishly mirroring each other a lot... and this is all probably going to get a little weird when Marius and Cosette finally get their shit together.
> 
> Also, nobody in this verse is linked with a specific friends character, though I'm sure I could find arguments for mish-mashes for all of them... except Jehan who is definitely just male!Pheobe, and I even gave him her orange coat from the episode this was based on so... kudos if you realised that.


End file.
